


Trash Talk

by Stylin_Breeze



Series: Usuri Drabbles [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21727999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stylin_Breeze/pseuds/Stylin_Breeze
Summary: When the trash talk commences, that's his cue.
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji & Usuri Michiru
Series: Usuri Drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566028
Kudos: 19





	Trash Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AristocatSlippers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AristocatSlippers/gifts).



> Warning: spoilers for chapter 370

It was a slightly solemn moment as Michiru Usuri stepped off the bus in front of the hotel, the same accommodation they’d had last spring. It was the first tournament of Usuri’s third year of high school and a broiling summer in Tokyo. As he stared up at the glistening building, he recalled the last time he was here, the company he had back then.

Wakatsu Kiryuu was gone, but nothing would change that. They were here to win.

They’d barely managed to squeak out the win in Oita Prefecture. Indisputably their team was weaker than the previous roster, but it still boasted a veritable assortment of elites. This was the tournament, Usuri hoped, that they would make Mi-chan-sensei proud.

The opening ceremonies came the following day. Usuri, the new captain, led the team in the lineup. After they exited, Michiru went by himself on behalf of the squad to read the published bracket posted courtside on a large noticeboard.

Their first game would be against the Miyagi rep.

Usuri heard good things about the Miyagi representative last year: Karasuno High School. They had defeated Wakatoshi Ushijima, the third best spiker in the nation at the time. This year, Karasuno had lost its final round of the prefectural tournament to the school they were destined to play.

Date Tech.

“Mujinazaka, huh? Sounds like a rodent,” a voice complained beside Mujinazaka’s captain.

And there, standing beside Usuri, was a third year in a white jacket with evergreen trim that read “Date Tech.”

Usuri frowned. The scowling man glanced to his side.

“What do you want?”

“So you’re Date Tech,” Usuri said.

“Yep, that’s us,” the man cheekily grinned, strutting out his chin. “I see you’re the badgers,” he goaded.

From the front, Usuri could see the man facing him had the line under his jersey number, marking him as the captain.

“We are,” Michiru frowned. “You’re Kenji Futakuchi…,” he recognized from game videos.

“Oh, you know me?” Kenji sneered. “I really am famous, huh? Guess we’re gonna mop the floor with you guys.”

Rather than offended or frightened, however, Usuri only smiled, ignoring the trash talk as he prepared to dish out his own. “For real, I was just thinking that you were the sloppiest player on the team.”

That made the veins on Futakuchi’s forehead bulge.

And then a towering figure in a zipped-up Date Tech jacket inserted himself between them in a single stride. The man fixed his eyebrow-less glare on Usuri who couldn’t decipher the man’s intent at all. Michiru knew who he was though: perhaps the powerhouse of their opponent’s defense, Takanobu Aone.

But instead, Aone turned to his captain and aimed an accusative index finger at the man.

“Hey! Why’re you pointing at me?!” Futakuchi fumed.

But Aone’s glare and finger didn’t move. Kenji shook irritably.

It was the middle blocker’s way of telling the captain he was being haughtier than he had right to be.

And as Kenji had begrudgingly learned over the years, there was no making Aone back down.

“Fine. Let’s go,” he submitted and moved to leave. Aone at last dropped his arm.

He then spun to face Usuri and, without a word, bowed primly at a ninety-degree angle in apology.

Usuri blinked. Takanobu Aone rose and then began to march directly behind Kenji, acting as a screen to force the captain to keep walking.

“Hey! I can walk on my own! You don’t need to force me!” Usuri heard Futakuchi shout from a distance.

Michiru took a deep breath to center himself.

That had been unexpected, but perhaps it was fated.

And despite accusing Date Tech’s captain of being sloppy earlier, he’d studied the video closely and appreciated just how good they were.

Tomorrow would be a tough, tough game.


End file.
